


The Ballad of Giselle

by Lilithisbitter



Series: Come at Once if Convenient Fanfiction Collection [6]
Category: Sherlock Holmes (1984 TV), Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Awesome Irene Adler, Challenge fic, Come at once round vi, F/M, Fourth Wall Breaking, Irene Adler doesn't love Sherlock, Lime, Multi, Other, Rape/Non-con Elements, Threesome - F/F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-17
Updated: 2016-02-17
Packaged: 2018-05-21 04:17:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6037759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilithisbitter/pseuds/Lilithisbitter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Challenge fic for come at once challenge. Irene Norton looks back on her life, her affair with the King of Bohemia, everything before and after, and how one special man saved her life.  No, not Sherlock, Godfrey Norton, the most awesome guy in the universe. Bring tissues, you'll need them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Ballad of Giselle

My name is Mrs Norton, also known as the late Irene Adler. 

Despite what a certain monarch has claimed, I do not love him. And while we're on the subject, I only got into the sex trade for money. My employer believed a woman singing on stage should be a reward in itself and I should be thankful for the few scraps tossed my way. To romanticize and attempt to pretend that my lot in life didn't bother me, I began to call myself an adventuress. 

To the outside world, I was nothing less than a perfect woman, my dark hair under a bonnet, my gloves neat and pressed, my skirts covering my ankles. They never knew what happened before and after a performance. I shall explain. 

Petre was my manager at the time and like a certain King, believed my cunt belonged to those above me. Before each performance, he came into my room and opened my dressing gown, letting his eyes roam over my frame until he said, "All of this must go," and he ripped my clothes off. Oh how many clothes he ruined, I know not. 

"Of course," I would say, knowing that was what he wanted me to say. I would let my legs fall open and show him my shaved mons pubis, glistening with the oil he expected me to apply. 

He pulled at the scant amount of fuzz adoring my vulva and clucked his tongue in disapproval. "Didn't I say off."

I looked at him through my eyelashes as I sat on my ruined clothes. I've been told my gaze is captivating by men who believe I don't know. "I wanted you to remove it," I cooed and for a moment I was in control. 

Petre would then cover my skin in foam and shave me clean, from clit to the pucker hidden at the end. I would leak my own form of excitement. Danger and power turn me on regardless if I want it or not. I would have my first orgasm as he removed the last trace of hair and bent down, his facial hair scratching against my legs, as he gave my clitoris a slight suck, drenching his face in my come. I didn't love him and he knew it and was okay with it. Petre was a married man and I was just a tasty treat. 

His wife knew because she was there, watching, her skirts hiked up and her top pulled beneath her breasts. She would masturbate. One time she took me herself with an ivory carved strap on.

She laughed always, amused at her wit. Most time I'm supposed worship her bum and lick his balls as he took her in her backside. I was the accessory in this twisted little game of theirs. Sometimes they liked to pretend that she had caught he and me in an affair. She'd say something like well I never even though she had several times. 

I was suppose to laugh and did after a long pause not appreciated by either. What they did was never funny. Not once. You might believe that I wished no ill of them. On the contrary. I hope they choke on their Sunday Roast. I hope they die slow lingering deaths. 

Now how did the king find his way into this? He's a patron of the arts. I was told after my show that he showed great interest in me and wished to see me. I politely said no, however it's shockingly easy to turn a no into a yes when one has a cock jammed in one's throat. They took my muffled rely as a yes. One finds that when one is working in such a position, one has no choice in the matter, even if one makes it clear after the fact, she never said yes. I was to join his Majesty that night. 

He wore a small domino mask over his face as if he believed no one would recognize him as Wilhelm of Bohemia. Hah, the only person who believed that was the fool who wore the mask. I would later find that Wilhelm wore more than one mask. 

Wilhelm, how do I put this lightly? He preferred the company of men. No, that is wrong. He desired them. Day and night, nothing but cock filled his mind. But that has little to do with it aside from the fact that my chest is nearly flat and I look like a young male from the right angle. So I suppose that's the way he can tolerate me. He never goes down on me and he always preferred anal, but for a time I fooled myself once again into believing I was remotely happy. 

That false happiness was not to last. I still sang at the opera, still had my sex games. I believed he would be all right with this. I was oh so very wrong. He caught me and Wilhelm proved that he was rather jealous for an introvert. I fluttered my lashes at him, saying, "It was only a kiss. Darling." 

"You ungrateful whore," he said as one of his heavily tinged hands struck my face hard. 

I retched. When I was done there was my meal and my blood and two ivory objects in the mess. I wondered for a moment if I had swallowed a bone early when I had eaten some fish earlier. My tongue found the gaps. Those were two of my teeth. I almost laughed, blood running down my chin, but the massive pain prevented me.

Wilhelm loomed over me, a looming presence. In a calm voice, he said "If you don't retire. I'll knock the rest out."

I had no choice, but to leave with him. He didn't love me, but he desired to have me if that makes any sense. I think I might have gone mad if not for my Godfrey. Blessed Godfrey. He was my rock and far lovelier than anyone had ever been. Or would be. I'm sorry, but my brief visits with Mr Holmes does not a relationship make. We barely knew each other, but to listen to him, you'd think he did. As far as men go, he struck me as vaguely extremely stalkerish. Yes, that was sarcasm. So glad you noticed. And that, also sarcasm. I am nothing if not witty. 

Godfrey clung to my naked body when we made love. We didn't always have sex, but still we made love. And there was no way Wilhelm would have allowed it. Yes, I admit I fled, but it was because I feared for my safety. And one other thing. 

I was pregnant, three months along when I met with Holmes. It did not show but caused me to fear for my life even so. I knew the timing was wrong. Meanwhile Wilhelm, the bastard, decided to peruse me, regardless of the fact that he was due to be wed. An arranged marriage of course. I saw her once. All curved hips and pillowy breasts. I dare him to get it up when he whips out his cock to fuck her. 

Yes, I admit I stole the portrait. And when I heard Mr Holmes was after me, that was when I had to leave. Yes, I played such a wicked trick. I blackmailed, I stole, I lied.

But from my point of view, I am more than justified. I know this when Godfrey parts my thighs and gently asks if I'm okay. And I can tell you the man knows how what the word no means. When he worships my breasts and my stomach, I feel like a Goddess. It is important now that I am older and my body is curved in all the wrong places. 

I had to do so much wrong to get so much right. But if you had gone through everything I went through, I like to imagine that you would do the same. I am confident in such.

And all that I've done, do you blame me? Do you?

**Author's Note:**

> Whew, so that's another canon down and several more to go. I wrote this fic both as filling a challenge and also because Godfrey Norton always seems to get the short end of the stick in fan fiction and in certain moves starring Iron Man.


End file.
